


Sugar, we're going down

by the_scent_of_your_memory



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, I gotta say I'm sorry, Jealous Harry, M/M, and somehow I always got to make it fit somewhere, as always, because apparently Tomlinshaw is my weak point, because it's hot, first of all, okay so, there a little of Greg/Louis snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_scent_of_your_memory/pseuds/the_scent_of_your_memory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis sort of disappeared for three years. Blame bad luck, blame fate, but their paths cross, and it turns out there are some things that don't really just belong to the past.</p><p>or, Louis runs away before Judges House's verdict and One Direction has only four members. They meet again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar, we're going down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Coming from a prompt of [hawthornsybil](http://hawthornsybil.tumblr.com/) and if you are interested in the original go check the post on my [tumblr](http://poopydoopylou.tumblr.com/%22)  
> I swear a lot I'm sorry but I GOT A DIRTY MOUTH so sue me. I don't really know where old romantic Kate went but I'm quite hapy with myself.  
> Thanks to [Ducky](http://http://duckyhoward.tumblr.com//%22) who helped me and always supports me through my self-deprecating issues.
> 
> ps I'm Italian for any mistakes forgive me

It rarely happens. It- it rarely happens really.

Just.

Sometimes it does and. And it hurts.

 

*

 

It's not like Louis tried to forget. Not really. It's just that remembering those days brings back sensations. Sensations that keep floating back like ocean waves, crashing heavy over him when he allows himself to trace passed moments back in his memory. Sensations Louis is very hard trying to forget.

So yeah okay. Louis is trying to forget.

To forget the memory of those two too young and too strong arms around _his_ waist when they held him firmly around _his_ torso. To forget how easily and effortlessly _he_ went to pick Louis up and embrace him, like it was a practiced gesture, out of habit, like _he_ didn't know what he was doing to Louis. Going straight to him like the other three people gathered around them and being given the same chance weren't really there.  
The warmth of _his_ hands under his thighs when Louis jumped on _him_ and curled his arms around _his_ neck. The warmth, the subtle squeeze, the fingertips pressing hard, leaving prints that Louis tried to find again, but never did. The name that felt to foreign on his tongue, too sweet inside his mouth and painfully familiar over his lips.

The world stopped spinning around its axis and held its breathe in anticipation, because two too young guys found each other among other thousands people there, watching and judging, holding their future in their callous hands.

But Harry went, and chose _him_.

 

*

 

Three years after Louis' experience at X Factor, the memories start to get blurred. He likes to think that somehow he imagined some things, that were vivid in his memory but now start to fade into evanescence. Like how Harry's hands felt when they wandered over Louis' young body. How his name slipped from his ridiculous red lips like it was one he had always known, urgent in the way he called it, passioned when whispered, and so private when moaned.

Louis doesn't know why he left. Maybe it was too much, too soon and too everything. And Louis was just a naïve boy who found himself in a situation where it was everything or nothing. And fear pushed him to choose for the latter.

  
But his love for music remained persistent, he craves it more than anything else. And the day he got the chance to work for a little radio station in his hometown, everything that might have happened before disappeared. It was Louis and no one else this time.

Things from there only got bigger. He met important and relevant people, who helped him to get known in his world and little by little he started to be pretty famous and requested. He doesn't bloody know how he got the opportunity to get an internship in the BBC 's station in London as an assistant. It might have had something to do with having shagged Bruce from the PR during Senior Year and who might have been in love with Louis since they were twelve and who not at all shamelessly helped him with some _references_ – Louis did not _once_ feared they may have been related to his mouth skills but pointedly decided to stop worrying, because fuck it, it's bloody true – and introduced him to people in the high places.

Or, as Stan likes to say, it's all due to Louis' _whimsical estrus_.

Or maybe he's just bloody talented and no one really should doubt his credentials, okay?

Louis tiredly drops into a chair in the main hall. Lottie had a terrible nausea yesterday night and obviously she cautiously decided to throw up all over Louis, who wasn't able to stop taking showers to wash away that horrendous smell that tenderly opted to cling to his skin. So he didn't really sleep. Then he had to take a bloody train and get here so he's really bone-deep tired.

There are people walking in front of him in an almost mechanical way, no one really sparing him a glance or daring their eyes to look ahead of them. Everyone is so beautifully in hurry and somehow always running somewhere else. Louis, instead, is stuck there. Ass gracefully resting on a rather fluffy cushion- covered chair and waiting for something. He doesn't know what. But yeah. Something.

  
He must have dozed off, because there is a hand lightly shaking him and quiet hey murmured above him. Louis opens his eyes and recognizes Gregory, a guy surely Louis didn't stalk on facebook and equally didn't wank to once after a too boring night out in a club. Louis blamed the alcohol and decided to ignore the fact completely. Even if he sort of really didn't.

Louis gives him the most enthusiastic smile he can manage considering the early hour and the previous night occurrences and with no further exchange, Greg leads him inside the building.  
Here, someone does spare him a glance, no so subtle at his wonderfully round ass he's really proud of even if all the thanks go to genetics, and fews even greet him politely. After a long tour that should have helped Louis orientate himself in the future if he hadn't deliberately stared at Greg' bum the whole time, they reach an almost bare room, a part from Nicholas fucking Grimshaw tilted back on the hind legs of a wooden chair, all leggy grace and cockiness, and Louis hears the creak and doesn't know why but briefly hopes it would break and make him fall on his ass. He shakes his head because he's sure it's too early for such cruel attitude.

“Hi darling”, Nick smirks, waving frantically a hand in the air in an incomprehensible gesture. “You are the new one from Manchester, right?”

“Doncaster mate”

“Oh yeah you're right”. He smirks again, “we're gonna have fun with you”, he finishes rising a challenging eyebrow. There is something so utterly resembling a promise in his voice and Louis unconsciously shudders and shakes his head again to regain his previous composure.

“I don't know why but I'm slightly worried, should I?” and the expression plastered on their faces says far too much.

“Yes you should” Greg and Nick both say in unison. And yep. Louis is fucked.

*

The first month goes quite smooth. Greg and Nick -but in particul- no fuck it, let's say it, just the latter one because Greg is just a bloody tosser that does everything Nick tells him – keep torturing him with dumb pranks and unpunished physical violences perpetrated so brutally on Louis' body– ass pinches and friendly slaps can be considered as it. He googled that- but somehow he coped with them showing off his gloriously violent and equally cruel soul.

Nick limped for three days straight after Louis' ultimate bravado, _ha_.

They fall into a routine. And Louis slowly becomes integral part of a bigger synergy of people and he likes it because despite his juvenile attitude towards big friends crews he became more like a one-best-friend-called-Stan's type of person and now he actually rediscovers why he loved that so much. Maybe it has something to do with his manic crave and passion to be at the centre of attention. Always and completely.

He likes to think of himself like a new Paris Hilton. Just less boobs, and blond hair. And make-up and slutty clo- okay that was really thoughtless but Louis hasn't yet had his morning coffee so forgive him.

He might have dropped it on Nick's head so really. Okay maybe it was yesterday but-okay.

*

Things kind of go to shit at the end of the second month.

Louis was expecting it. Of fucking course he was but he hoped he could keep pretending he could somehow avoid this obviously imminent and _non-avoidable_ occurrence and putting his hopes on the Gods above reminding them all the good things he probably did in a previous life as a cute kitten.

Because One Direction are due to be interviewed today by that moron of Nicholas, who perfectly knows what happened three years ago but his second name is Lucifer and bloody deserves to painfully die of hemorrhoids, and Louis isn't damn ready to deal with it.

Louis has always checked on them. Of course he has. He watched all their interviews and public performances and always ended up eating his own hands because he could be part of that and share the same future with so wonderful people and surely Harry's cocksucker lips don't really have something to do with the warmth pooling in Louis' stomach every time he sees them on the TV or on the internet. And he surely heard about Nick and Harry's gossiped relationship that as far as he knows narrows down to pure and mere sex but it's not like he asked because he really doesn't want to know.

And fuck. They changed so much and Louis practically saw them growing up day by day, saw how Liam's hair kept changing and Harry's voice getting lower and Niall's becoming sexier and sexier and Harry's body getting everyday more defined and toned and Zayn's face sharper and unnaturally symmetrical and Harry's face a goddamned joke of nature. Damn Harry and his stupid everything.

And so no. He doesn't know how to deal with it, so he just keeps visiting the bathroom every five minutes so even if he's planning on not meeting them if he unfortunately happens across them at least he looks bloody okay. He fixes his quiff for what seems the thousandth time and straightens the collar of his white v-neck, then carefully rolls again his jeans up to his dainty calves and checks his arse in the mirror. The eighth wonder, really. Insurance my ass, he should be the one receiving money to show it off.

  
Just to placate his _wounded_ ego, when he storms out the bathroom Nick slaps it with a satisfied grin and adds a serious “one day, it will be mine” pointing a finger to Louis' face and disappears around the corner. _Keep hoping_

Louis not at all childishly hides the whole day in unoccupied rooms and busies himself with trivial little jobs, like checking three times some papers Greg gave him two weeks ago that he blatantly promised to never look at. The guys are currently with Nick, promoting their new album and being undoubtedly harassed by his sharp sense of humor, that Louis easily fell in love with after few hours together even if he promised himself to never let douchebags inside his little cynical heart. Too late for that anyway.

The four cups of tea he drank this morning to calm his nerves down are starting to be annoying in his lower stomach so with a quick apology to an empty room he runs to the bathroom. He slams the door and courses Greg in his head for never being around when he needs him and then lets out a very very very mainly scream when someone taps his shoulder. He turns around and freezes. Because Niall Horan is standing there, all flushed cheeks and bleached hair and now perfect smile smiling at him.

“Louis?” he asks disbelievingly, wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

Louis takes a deep breath, and managing to sound casual says “hi mate, how you doing?”. Nice job

Niall laughs. Sound that even if Louis got to hear it personally few times in the past, it evokes the same warmth and same affection he proved for the person producing it three years ago, when that guy really meant nothing to Louis but somehow the whole world at the same time.

“Jesus Christ you are unrecognizable”. Niall touches absentmindedly Louis' quiff and chuckles, “what has it been? Three years?”

And yes. _Three years and forty days and two hours since the day_ he cowardly left during Judge House because he felt like he didn't deserve the opportunity they gave him and that he wouldn't have been able to cope with what was waiting for them anyway.

Three years.

“Yeah” he finally manages, but then adds “can you please not tell the others I'm here. I would much rather prefer to keep a low-profile thanks”.

Niall looks confused because it's just Louis Tomlinson who has problems with everything that could go smooth but stoically decides to make it bloody complicated. “I guess it's too late since it was the first thing Nick told us when we arrived” and Louis will strangle him and drown his body inside a tub of muriatic acid and proudly watch his body slowly melting or just deny him a piece of his chocolate morning scone.

He has to decide but he needs time. It's a very difficult decision.

If it was possible to turn back time Louis probably would like to have not run away from the bathroom and leave a confused Niall with risen eyebrows and narrow eyes. But mechanical engineering or whatever still hasn't made this kind of improvements, so he's stuck with the reality of himself running down the corridor, panting like a maniac because he's a lazy bastard and smoking Stan's fags doesn't help, and crashing against a solid body and landing gracefully on the carpeted floor. _Insurance_ he thinks _let's give it a go._

He might have had a little cerebral concussion, because there's a Harry Styles looking down worriedly at him, oblivious of the fact the the only thing hurting is Louis' heart, and he's not even joking this time. Because Harry is beautiful. Harry's is beautiful and his dimpled face is three inches away from Louis', wiggling a finger in front of him while cautiously inspecting his eyes, Louis presumes, to assure that they follow the surrounding movements and actually dismiss the concussion option and it's been three fucking years. Louis' breath gets stuck in his throat and he guesses he's currently still sat on his fat ass looking completely zoned out so he doesn't really blame Harry for being so worried.

  
Finally Harry speaks, but Louis really prefers he hasn't, because what comes out is “I've already see the blue in your eyes” harry keeps inspecting his face “do I know you?” and Louis might cry.

“I-I”. Louis looks away and gently shoves his way past Harry. But there's a hand grabbing his arm and making him turn back and they stay there, staring inside each other's eyes. Then Harry's widen and Louis sees something he really doesn't know how to define flash over them. A mixture of surprise, and happiness, and confusion and maybe hurt for reasons Louis' prefers to stay oblivious of.

“Louis?” Harry asks incredulously tightening his grip on Louis' arm.

“Er, I don't really know who are you talking about” Louis says, not really meeting his eyes, and trying to wriggle away from his grip.

“You bloody tosser. I know who the hell are you don't play dumb. You left". And no, Louis decided to never let himself feel guilty for this, because it was three years ago, and Harry was sixteen and so young but the way he's looking at him make all his guards crumble.

“Harry I'm sorry but. I couldn't, I'm sorry, it was too much, too painful to talk to you and I'm a coward I know I'm sorry but-”

Harry cuts him off by rising considerably his voice, “no no no shut up. You ain't no right to talk. Because you fucking kissed me that night even though you knew you were gonna leave and then run away the day after like it was nothing. And it was bloody not anything Louis” he finishes. And after few seconds of spacing out Louis eventually notices the five people gathered around them. Niall behind him, Nick and the other three band mates ahead, all open-mouthed and mumbling _is he him?_ to each other.

Louis can't really afford to panic, so he mutters a quite “I gotta go” and runs past Nick, who annoyingly smirks and turns his head to follow Louis till he disappears, when Zayn calls out his name. It hits him like a train, the memory of Zayn saying his name from above him that night when they drank too much at Harry's bungalow and Louis passed two hours clutched to the toilet with Zayn there to help him. There is the same gentleness and apprehension in his voice, now after all this time, as if it has never really passed. And probably Zayn is trying to catch him up running after him but miserably failing because when it comes to run away, Louis is a pro.

Louis just briefly considers giving up his job. Or is life, if that's not enough.

*

Things kind of get back to normalcy then. Just, not really. No, not at all.

Because the green in his eyes is taunting him and no matter who he looks at, a dimple pops up even if it's not there and mocks him. And obviously Nick is a damn bastard about the whole situation. Because the kiss was sort of their secret, a mistake probably. But no no. Louis does not regret it a bit, because it was Harry, and his chubby cheeks and stupid curls and adoring eyes like Louis was everything they would ever look at forever after.

  
And so the nitty gritty is that Nick is a son of bitch. And he will pay for it one day. Louis will make sure of it.

Greg wasn't there when it happened, and he's a bloody cupcake about everything so Louis can easily find comfort with him. And maybe with his charm he tries fruitlessly to convince him he was just the unconscious victim of a merciless faith and that it wasn't really his fault. Louis keeps pretending last week didn't happen. And that he didn't really went through the whole Harry Styles's tag on tumblr and discover everything he humanly could.

  
He feels so ashamed that he finally agrees to go clubbing with Matt and end up bouncing on his cock in the back seat of his car after only a drink and a quick dance. Hoping that in that half-hour he won't see green in his eyes, but just two hands holding him steady on his lap.

It doesn't really work. But he's sure he never signed for celibacy and he hasn't shagged with someone in months. So yeah. Serendipity.

*

After two weeks from the fact, all the guys follow him on twitter and after a couple of days Zayn send him a PM.

_come up with s/t 2 do like, r/n coz I wanna c u. chop chop!!_

And Louis feels eighteen all of a sudden again, too naïve and hopeful and light-hearted, giving a chance to his dreams and finding something safe in Zayn's eyes.

He types back _a quiet coffee somewhere nice where you prefer?_!

*

Somewhere nice turns out being at Zayn's, and a quiet coffee a camouflaged tentative to importune him with quick series of questions -like he's the one with the exiting life there- perpetrated by Liam and Niall that _whokknowswhy_ are there to help Zayn to apparently soak up every kind of informations from Louis. And there no coffee, for god's sake.

“So tell me if I got it right. You didn't feel like going through all that stuff in X Factor with us and now you wants to become a radio host all by yourself?”

“Yeah basically. But it's different you know. Plus, two years passed before I allowed myself to take this chance. So yeah” his smile is drawn in a thick line, probably forcing himself to stop talking before saying things he's not ready to share yet.

“Oh mate I missed you so much” Niall breaks the little silence hanging there, patting Louis' shoulder while loudly munching some biscuits.

“You are gonna break my clavicle Ni, stop that”

“I'm sure clavicles aren't on you back”

Louis literally pounces on him and stabs him with a worn pillow, because Niall shouldn't use his _brain_ to outstand like this. Louis has to be the star here. Bloody hell.

He was nervous about seeing them. He was afraid there would have been some awkwardnesses and that probably he wouldn't be cool enough for them. But they really are very laid-back and genuinely carefree, just passing around beers and catching up on what they have been missing all this time. Liam is the one who shocked him the most. Because he was a bloody saint back then, always maternal and worried when Zayn and Louis decided to go for one of their crimes. Now instead he's the dumbest of all they five, quirky, mischievous and completely random and Louis think he could love him so effortlessly and wholly if Liam allowed him. Niall and Zayn changed not that much. Zayn is surely quieter but he has anyway these moments where sense surrenders and he comes out with the stupidest comments and quips Louis' ever heard, all laughing and pleased with himself. Niall is probably the more balanced, dumb when he needs to but very sensible when required. Louis though is completely endeared by Liam so he decides he will become his new friend forever because he can't be stupid alone. He hates loneliness in these kind of situation.

He doesn't dare asking where Harry is. Nick called him this morning and told him he would have been busy all day, and so Louis decides he won't make easy conclusions because his brain doesn't really work like that. Sometimes.

Liam decides they need more cookies, so proposes Louis to be his Bane for this adventure through the dangers and mysteries of their unused kitchen. The benefit – or in this case the disadvantage – of Liam not knowing Louis' capacity – or rather incapacity – with cooking, is that the whole thing turns out a huge mess, cookie dough splattered on the walls and chocolate chips littered all over the floor and -Louis doesn't want to know how- inside his pants.

  
There is a loud crash of glass shattering on the ground, followed by multiple courses and what seems to be slaps on the face. When Zayn enters the kitchen to make sure nobody is fatally injured, Liam and Louis' heads pop up from under the counter -probably previously engaged in a wrestling session- and in unison say “it was him”, both pointing at each other with childish face and clothes covered in flour. That's surely the start of long long looooong never-ending friendship. He's sure.

His pocket buzzes and with a little excuse he extract his phone. There is a message from Nick, reading _party at mine 2nite. invite the popstars._

“Okay kids, let's party hard tonight”

 

*

 

The problem is that Louis doesn't bloody know what to wear. Because Nick is a damn hipster and Louis doesn't really want to feel out of place but kill him if he's going to wear fake-glasses and vintage shirt just to please him. So he opts for his slutty blue jeans and colors-designed tank top. It's still hot enough and he has tattoos to show off, okay?

He arrived at Nick's fashionably late and tag along with Greg, who isn't really the party type and always looks almost lost in these occasions. Zayn and Liam are sat in the corner of a huge couch, whispering inside each other ears like Louis knows they are quite used to do. Niall passes by with a ginger hair girl tucked under his arm, eyes vitreous and dopey smile, probably high on something nice.

“I gotta go” Niall says the second he sees them, probably planning on spending the night in decisively funnier ways.

Zayn barks out a loud laughter, resting his head on Liam's shoulder, breathing out a soft “that bloody Irish” that has both Liam and Louis cracking up. They share few drinks, some of them of very questionable colours and texture but they swallow them up without second thoughts anyway, and around one o'clock Louis' head is definitely spinning.

“Oh oh Zayn, let's go in Nick's room and set fire to his warbrode. It will be funny, c'mon” Louis finishes, grabbing Zayn's hand and urging him to stand up from the couch. Zayn gapes at him but his eyes are extremely fond. “Only if you let me pee in his bed”.

Louis looks at him confused. “Meeee, letting you do that stuff?!?”, he shakes his head, “I oblige you, like, now” he huffs indignantly, because people really don't get how far his violent attitude goes.

After a quick tour around the house, when they manage to make a mess in the bathroom cabinets, throwing away things, hide others or swapping their places, they finally seems just a little bit pleased. Before moving to his bedroom, Louis search for a tube of shaving foam, and with it he writes “my ass stinks” on the mirror with a little _lol_ in the corner, feeling so wrongly mischievous and far too smug about it for human standards. When they come back from Nick's room, where they made sure he won't be able to find his favorites Vans ever again and drew penises all over the headboard, Louis looks over Liam’s shoulder to see the red-cheeked blonde boy at the other end of the bar, standing on a counter, preparing to do what seems to be like a very stupid stunt.

“Ugh. One sec.” Zayn says, dashing over to Niall.

  
“Geronimo!” Niall shouts to a cheering crowd, preparing to jump off the bar by bending his knees. But Zayn grabs his calves before he can move and pulls Niall down over his shoulder, walking back to Louis rolling his eyes when the Irishman mumbles “fucker who fucking fucked up my pla-” but then laughs when Niall literally dies at the end of his insult, going all squashy and soft.

  
“I gotta throw the garbage” Zayn says pointing to the collapsed body over his shoulder, while making his way toward the bedroom they just came from.

  
Greg is near the big window with Matt, and the second he sees Louis he makes grabbing hand demanding for a drunk hug. He asks him for a dance, which surprises Louis because he isn't really the kind of person who would get all sweaty on a dance floor but when he basks in the hesitation on Greg's face maybe something clicks then. They dance chest-to-chest, Greg's hands clutching Louis' hips and pressing a little hard in a unconscious gesture. Louis feels fuzzy and warm, and Greg is beautiful and is tall and could easily manhandle him and so he gets on his tippy toes and kisses him, smiling against his lips when Greg lets out a pleased sound.They stay like this for a while, bodies swaying and sloppy kisses in the middle of Nick's living room. The Louis excuses himself and promises to come back with something light to drink, since Greg's red-rimmed eyes are nothing to go by. He enters the kitchen with some difficulties, because Nicholas knows everyfuckingone and his place is packed and it's starting to get hard to breathe.

  
He pours some Blue Curacao in both cups but nearly throw them in the hair when two hands grip his waist, a sturdy body is pressed against his back and a mouth is whispering in his ear “I guess it's just your prerogative to kiss and run then”.

  
Louis feels his cock twitch in his pants and strain the material of his too tight jeans, letting out a quite moan when he feels a growing bulge against his arse. And it's fucking huge okay?  
Harry dusts kisses on Louis' neck, fingertips skimming the soft skin of his hips and ruts imperceptibly his crotch against Louis, who moans again and closes his eyes.

“Do you want me to fuck you Louis? Because I'd really like very much to split that wonder of ass in two and then eat you out till you cry”. His words are slurred and surely alcohol tinged but sound like honey dripping from his mouth and fuck if that's not the sexiest thing Louis has ever heard and yes, he wants Harry to fuck him so hard he won't be able to walk for days.

  
But Harry doesn't need to get an answer, he just grabs Louis' hand and urges him to follow him up the stairs and as they enter Nick' room, Harry shoves him on the bed. He crawls over him, briskly and literally tearing out Louis' jeans and briefs, and spreads wide open his legs. Louis moves his hand to reach for Harry's fly, but he swats it away and do it himself. The little shit isn't wearing any pants underneath, and Louis spares a second-time thought at the fact that probably Harry was planning on getting laid anyway tonight and for the same short amount of time feels slightly jealous but then Harry presses dry a finger inside his ass and any thought leaves Louis' mind all-together. Harry frees his cock from his tight black jeans, keeping them on, and strokes himself twice just to release some tension, then reaches with his free hand for the top drawer near Nick's bed, and extract a nearly finished lube bottle, opening it up and, after carefully pulling out the finger rubbing against Louis' prostate, slicks it up and presses two back inside, making Louis nearly scream in pleasure.

  
Harry's is restless in his movements, hitting all the right spots and proceeding at the perfect speed. Painfully slow when it gets too much, and mercilessly fast when he sees Louis can take more.

“Do you want my cock now huh? All deep inside your ass?” and he sounds so deliciously filthy that Louis almost comes just hearing his husky voice dripping from those pornographic lips.

He breathes out a “yeah please, just fuck me already” with a final groan when Harry's pulls out his fingers and then with a second thought pulls Louis' tank top off too. The way Harry's eyes are roaming over his body is making Louis feels hot and so wanted, willing to give him everything Harry will ask him. Harry moves to straddle Louis' shoulders, and with a firm hand at the base of his cock, he nudges Louis' already parted lips and slowly pushes it inside. Louis bloody loves sucking cock. He has always done and it doesn't really matter how much it's cliché, because Harry's huge and warm in his mouth, already leaking precome eagerly sucked clean by his tongue. Harry throws a hand through Louis' hair, carding absentmindedly the shorter one at the base of his neck, whispering quietly “yeah babe, take it all down your throat” that is so strangely sweet in the tone despite the roughness of the words. Harry moves away from Louis' mouth, cock popping out with an obscene sound, and after slicking it up with what remains in the bottle, he grabs both Louis' ass cheeks, spreading them wide open and slams his throbbing cock inside Louis' clenching hole.

“Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight” he punctuates each word with an hard slam, making Louis body thud against the headboard and lose his breath for few seconds.

Harry's unforgiving. His hips move with a never faltering rhythm, always pushing inside with force and his hands are firm around Louis' cock, stroking and squeezing restlessly.

Louis' comes with a whimper, coating Harry's fingers and his own stomach, but groans again when he feels Harry's muscles tensing and clenching around him, probably waiting for his own orgasm to hit fast and hard. What Louis wasn't really expecting is Harry to lean all the way down and smash they lips together, licking inside his mouth and then nibbing at Louis' bottom lips when he comes, groaning against Louis' lips. The sensation of Harry's cock pulsing inside his ass has Louis rolling his eyes back in his head and breathing out a low shit, because this feels so fucking good and he wants to start all over again.

  
Harry rests his head briefly in the crook of Louis' neck, catching back his breath and letting the post- orgasm haze slowly fade. Then he pulls out, take a tissue from the windowsill and cleans himself up. He tugs up his fly and without a second glance to Louis, exits the room, leaving him bare on Nick's disintegrated bed, with come drying up on his belly, and a stodgy sensation of emptiness.

Louis bring two fingers to his kiss-abused lips, still feeling the ghost of Harry's ones bruising their tender flesh, and the only thought lingering in his mind is three years and eighty-three days and five hours and half and then blacks out, tiredness completely taking over him.

*

Louis wakes up with a bitter taste of _regret_ in his mouth and Nicholas' head tucked in the nook of his collarbone. Ho looks almost innocent like this, not like the twat he so stupidly fell in love with when Louis has told him he should write a poem about his beautiful ass while Louis had his throbbing cock inside it and Nick simply said “roses are red, viole- oh for fuck's sake just take it in your mouth” to which Louis gladly complied minutes later.

He wonders where Harry is, if he's feeling as empty as Louis is, because he let him fuck him at then silently watched him leave him like he meant nothing. And Louis feels empty, a sensation that Harry has never caused, despite the distance.

Louis rises his body from the mattress, and rests his weight on his elbows, blinking furiously to let them adjust. He's not hungover, thank god because he would have had a really miserable one and he's not sure he trusts Nick enough to let him see him so vulnerable and, knowing Nick, surely open to blackmail. He pokes his stomach repeatedly, and then stops when he notices Nick is violently glaring at him, with black bags under his now vitreous eyes.

Louis laughs and pokes them too, says “you old wrinkled piece of crap” with a gentle genuine smile and so much fondness it hurts.

Nick gives Louis a little noogie and says “you let him fuck you, didn't you?” and he sounds so bloody smug like Louis hasn't just shagged with the same guy as him. He assumes Nick and Harry weren't really that kind of thing. Louis grabs a pillow and innocently smushes it against Nick's face, gently carding his destroyed quiff and quietly murmuring “everything will be fine sssh. Now die” because Louis is undoubtedly a very good person, despite what people might say and the fact that Nick is pleading for respite and Louis won't concede it.

  
Somehow Nick shoves him away and manages to save his own useless life, muttering “get your kit off now” because apparently today is that kind of morning.

*

The month goes by. Louis doesn't really want to talk about how it went because he feels very ashamed for how many times he stayed home instead of going out and get laid and maybe trashed and just forget about Harry Styles and his dick shoved inside his ass. Because these kind of thoughts don't really help Louis to get over him. Not in the slightest.

  
He manages to find a balance with Nick, avoiding to approach him when he's too bitchy and prefers the quiet company of Greg, who despite what happened that night, doesn't really resents him. God bless Gregory James.

The positive aspect is that he was able to see the other lads very often, now finally free from other too impeding obligations and far more free time to pass consoling ignorantly and unconsciously Louis' desperate heart with their always genuine laughs and furious binge drink sessions during the week-ends at Nick's.

  
But whoever invented the famous Sod's law was bloody right, because the only night he allowed himself to move his ass from his so long loved couch because Zayn claimed Louis is becoming a acid spinster with laziness issues, he finds himself sat on a stool of a too mentally packed club, with Greg sat next to him complaining about Matt who ditched them all in favor of a quieter weed-and-beer night with Bruce, and Nick grinding his crotch against Harry Styles' arse in the middle of the dance floor.

  
He feels sick in the stomach, because he realizes he practically fucked Nick through Harry, even if Nick did actually fuck him, and even rather pleasurably, but somehow it's different and Louis feels sick. He doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do, but briskly decides to dedicate all his attention to Greg, who is a very nice guy who isn't surely grinding nothing against Harry's nothing so yep.

  
They talk a little about Matt's new lover, a Spanish boy who came to London to find a job as an architect, but who ended up stuck with a really shitty job. Zayn and Liam finally come back from the bathroom, hair all ruffled and messed up shirts and Louis is too sober to let them get away with this. And so he launches himself in a fierce banters war that nearly ends with a dead and alcohol spilled all over the counter when Liam tried to strangle Louis. He's not sure why but he feels like he deserved it somehow.  
Someone blurts straight in his ear, and Louis is certain he lost his hearing forever because he feels deaf from one side and feel slightly worried about the fact that he recognized the source of that corporal _something_ the second it escaped his mouth . He turns around with a bewildered face and sees Niall smiling from ear to ear with closed eyes, cheeks all flushed and sweaty, holding up a pint that probably, if he's lucky, it's the sixth tonight.

“Your delicacy overwhelms me Niall. Really” and Niall laughs. So tenderly and beautifully, eliciting a smile from everybody around. He looks like a baby panda, all cuddly and soft, just less fat he guesses. Animal similitudes are a sign that he’s either way too tired to be thinking or turning into Niall. He's not sure he'd like it.

Louis finally is able to tune out Harry and Nick dirty dancing, not sparing them even a single glance, all wrapped in the argument he's having with Greg and Zayn about how stupid Nicholas Grimshaw's dog is. They drink all in the meanwhile, head starting to spin vortically fast and vision blurring at the edges, and so when Greg leans down and brushes his lips against Louis', he doesn't flinch away. Instead, he claps a hand around his neck, and deepens the kiss, nearly climbing over his lap for the sudden arousal pooling in his pants. He doesn't know why, but suddenly there are no more lips kissing him and instead someone shouting next to him. He opens his eyes, and see Harry shoving Greg away from him and bellowing “not again for fuck's sake” and Louis is really missing something because nothing makes sense right now.

Harry corners him against the cold counter, bracing both hands on its edges, and hovers over Louis, glaring at him so angrily Louis is almost scared. Then he grabs his hand, and Louis' head spins and he isn't conscious enough to register what the hell is happening because suddenly the cold autumnal hair hits his face and he's shoved against a brick wall, with a leg pressed against his hard cock.

“What the fuck was that?” he says, words slurred and unbalanced, while unzipping Louis' jeans and palming his clad cock.

But Louis is not having none of this jealous shit, because Harry left him naked and ashamed in Nick's goddamned bedroom and disappeared for a whole month. “No you bloody jealous twat. You were nearly fucking Nicholas back there and so no. Fuck you, you have no claim on my ass”. He shoves him hard far from him, feeling angry and just a little bit going to cry.

Harry's expression falters, softening somehow, and then responds “I've waited for you for three years. Three fucking years. And you disappeared Lou. You disappeared and never called once. No a message, no a nothing. You kissed me like it was something you had all planned in you mind and after you run away I had to deal with figuring myself out because I bloody loved it and I was sixteen Louis. You came and made a mess and you weren't there to help sort it out. And now you come out of nowhere with your sexy everything and make me hard with just a look and shag my best friend and kiss someone else in front of me like I mean nothing to you. Because I do mean nothing to you, innit?”. He laughs humorlessly, a sound that feels so wrong in too many aspects coming from his gentle lips.

“It had nothing to do with you Harry. It was me, my future and my choices. I was afraid because I didn't have your charm, nor Zayn's voice, nor Liam's talent nor Niall's cute face. I had nothing and I preferred to chicken out rather than disappoint myself and the people that were expecting something big from me. And yeah, you meant the world to me, you still do and for fuck's sake Harry I spent three damn years stalking you and wondering how it would be like to kiss you again and maybe show you I could be brave enough to keep you”. He finishes, noticing just now the tears streaming down his face - alcohol making him all more sensitive- and how his voice cracked at then end.

And Harry shoves him back against the wall, cradling his face with both hands and sailing their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Louis lets out a soft whimper, swallowed up entirely by Harry's swollen lips, who then detaches them from Louis' just the minimum to murmur “you are bloody talented. You have a wonderful voice and the prettiest face and you deserved that chance as much as we all did. And fuck Lou, you broke my heart when you run away like that. Fucking look at me Louis” and he rises his eyes, locking them with Harry's. They are so dark, clouded with lust and want and maybe a little bit of adoration and Louis doesn't understand it but he's eager to know till what point it can lead them to.

“You were going to fuck him, weren't you?” Harry asks, because that's a pressing point Louis guesses.

“And you?” Louis bites back.

“No”

“Then no”

Harry stares at him with flickering eyes and shivering lips, trying to catch any sign or unsureness or lie in Louis' watery ones. By the way his expression changes Louis reckons he didn't find any.

“Then kiss me you fool” and Louis does. Like his life depends on it, like there nothing more worth doing right now. Harry pushes Louis' body further up against the wall, then with a swift motion he places his hands under his thighs and hoist Louis up, who winds his legs around Harry's narrow waist, his arms rest on Harry's shoulder and hands lost in his unruly curls. It's evocative in an almost painful way, how again he picked him up so effortlessly and without hesitation, again in a practiced motion that herald something bigger with the ease Harry's hands find rest in the hollows of Louis' body. It's again a start, and this time happiness doesn't taste like a memory.

  
There's no space between their bodies, Harry's necklaces pressing up against Louis' chest, and he moves his left hand to grab at them, wrap them around this hand, draw Harry impossibly closer with them, faces smashed together in a fervent kiss and hips rutting desperately for friction. Harry's hands alternate between pressing against Louis' bum, squeezing and shifting back and forth maybe in an attempt to release some tension, and cradling Louis' face, skimming the soft flesh under his eyes with his thumbs. With the last final frantic movements of their hips they both come inside their pants, just like this, jeans still on and Louis propped up against a wall, panting inside each other's mouth and eyes getting back to their natural colour.

“Are you going to run away again?

“And you?”

“No, never again”

“Then no. Never again”

And nothing has ever sounded more like a promise than this.

 

*

 

“Have you ever thought about joining us? It would be quite sick mate”

Yeah Louis has thought about it. How cool it would be to have the fame, the money, the possibility of living doing what you love. To share a big future with four friends, that saw the worst bits of you but stick to your side because there are some kinds of love that somehow never die. That kind of love that fills your cracks when you feel broken, and leaves silence when everything gets too much.  
To travel around the world and fall in love with a kid smiling at his grandad in Mexico, with a leaf floating down in the humid air in Japan, or everyday with the same guy with gentle green eyes who wears his heart on his sleeve.

  
Louis thinks he might know what it's like to fall in love with that guy everyday and love him more than whatever fame and amount of money could have come if instead of running away he had stayed that day, three years and nine months and five days ago, when those eyes said nothing but everything at the same time.

  
And then he thinks about Liam, that keeps putting him in trouble and always ending up blaming Louis with that innocent face, all dopey and crinkling eyes. About Zayn, that enters Louis' flat in the morning screaming outrage when Louis forgets to send him a sweet goodnight message. About Niall, that steals Louis' biscuits even if there is a full bag in front of him claiming _yours are better_ and then complains when they are over.

He even thinks about Greg, that is Louis' shelter when Nick has his bitch mode on and reminds Louis that homicide is still a crime but anyhow promises he will help him hide the corpse if something goes wrong. About Nick that. Well, that. That is Nick and Louis is surprised he's still breathing despite the too many times he tried to kill him making it all looks like an accident and then always chickening out because at the end of the day Louis thinks he loves him. Maybe. And Louis shouldn't forget about the fact that Nick helped him to finally get a job as a radio host in the BBC's station and put an end to his stupid internship claiming “that guy has to get that job. Just look at that ass” because apparently it can really be a credential.

And then he thinks about Harry, who's probably waiting for him at home and wearing again nothing but Niall's chef had and that stupid apron with pink kittens on it that Liam gave him with a smug face two weeks ago, and Louis lowers his eyes and smiles all privately, rubbing his nose in an unconscious gesture. So when he answers he simply says

“I'm happy here where I am”


End file.
